


The Benevolent Millionaire

by MadameHardy



Category: Arsène Lupin - Maurice Leblanc
Genre: 1910s, Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameHardy/pseuds/MadameHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither rain nor flood nor gloom of night can deter a gentleman thief from meting out justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Benevolent Millionaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liz_mo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_mo/gifts).



On a rainy winter Monday I was awakened by the banging of my shutter. The noise was so loud and so irregular as to make sleep impossible. Cursing Antoine for having forgotten to fasten the shutter, I got up to close it. In the thin grey light of the dank morning I saw a white gleam on my shaving-stand. I walked to it to find a card. It read simply "8PM, Chez Paul." 

I had become accustomed to Lupin's capricious method of arranging appointments; nonetheless, this time he had excelled himself. You will comprehend my astonishment when I explain that the Monday in question was January 24, 1910, in the midst of the Great Paris Flood. The clocks were frozen at 10:50; the electricity and telephones were gone; there was nobody to light the gaslamps; and no fiacre could pass the flooded streets. I could not imagine how I was to reach the end of the street, far less Chez Paul. I turned the card over. The back read "I shall call for you at 7:30." There was nothing to do but laugh. If Lupin arrived in a submarine I should not have been surprised in the slightest.

That evening I stood in the vestibule of my house, on the second step of the front staircase. The flood waters were no deeper than a few centimeters: enough to soak one's shoes, but not so much as to make walking impossible. The concierge had fled to her sister's home as soon as the dirty water had crept under the front door. The stench! If you were not there, I cannot convey the vileness of it. Imagine the sewers, the cemeteries, the cesspits, stirred into the devil's own soup, your face held down within an inch of the pot. Distill that. Even then you will have only the faintest idea of how Paris smelt in January 1910.

There was a knock on the door. I stepped off the stair and splashed across the vestibule to the door. The door was somewhat difficult to open against the force of the water. When I managed it, I saw a bachot skimming comfortably above the street, where the water was deeper. In the bachot were the boatman and a muffled figure in a cloak. Although the boatman maneuvered as close to the sidewalk as he could, there was still a meter of liquefied sewage to cross. I gritted my teeth, consigned my shoes and trousers to ruin, and waded forth to meet him. The boat already contained a passenger muffled in a cloak. At first I assumed it was Lupin, but when I boarded I spied a pretty mouth and chin just visible under the hood. I raised my hat.

The boatman hastened to justify himself. "Ah, I was certain that Monsieur would not object to assisting a lady in distress. This lady was standing on the sidewalk when the water rose around her. I am carrying her to her grandmother's home, then I shall take you to Chez Paul."

I could not be such a boor as to refuse, and in any case the lady had a very pretty mouth. I managed to get myself and my umbrella into the boat without upsetting it, and the boatman pushed off and began to pole his way forward.

It was very like Lupin to arrange to meet but remain invisible. This once I was confident that he was not present in disguise. The boatman lacked two fingers on one hand, something even Lupin could not simulate. And the young lady? I amused myself with the idea, but in truth, even muffled in the cloak her blushing cheeks and ruby lips announced her youth and gender.

After a short while the boatman arrived at a larger street, on which wooden passerelles had already been erected to allow pedestrians to walk above the water. An elderly maidservant began to wave wildly as soon as we came into sight. The boatman drew up alongside the passerelle. There, with some assistance from myself and two stout gentlemen standing above us, we transferred the lady safely to the sidewalk. Her anxious maidservant immediately began to scold her. So the young lady turned, smiled ruefully, thanked the boatmen, and tripped away, both out of sight and out of this story.

The boatman poled us to Chez Paul. Its street had suffered worse than my own, for the floodwaters reached to the bottom of the windows of the ground floor. I could not imagine how Lupin proposed to dine. When we drew closer, however, I could see lights glowing on the first floor, and rope ladders hung down from the windows. I managed -- how well, you can imagine, burdened by an evening hat, a heavy cloak, and an umbrella -- to rise to the window, and the strong arms of the waiters pulled me in the rest of the way.

The proprietor had sacrificed his own parlor and dining-room for the comfort of his clientele: the family portraits still hung on the walls, but the tables and chairs of the brasserie had replaced the good Madame Paul's plush furniture and displays of bric-à-brac. She must have sacrificed her kitchen as well, for the air smelled delicious. A stumpy middle-aged priest raised a hand in greeting. I took him for Lupin, but when I approached his table he sat up straighter and said "I apologize, Monsieur, I mistook you for someone else." I heard familiar laughter behind me. When I turned, I saw Lupin, quite undisguised, sitting at a table as calmly as if he were not the most wanted man in France.

"Do sit down, my friend, and stop gaping! There is nothing at all to trouble yourself with. Nobody will bother to look for me at a time like this, and in any case M. Paul is an old friend."

Lupin handed me _Le Figaro_ , and I took it, marveling at the proprietors' resourcefulness in printing and distributing under such conditions. I scanned the front page: the Gare de Lyon flooded, the Zouave wet to his waist, Pigalle high and dry while St-Germain-des-Prés was flooded. I had scarcely glimpsed so much when Lupin scolded me. "No, no, page 7!" I folded to the page in question and found the following notice:

"Arsène Lupin presents his compliments and sympathies to the citizens of Paris. In light of the present urgent crisis, you may rest assured that your goods and belongings will not be troubled by your humble servant for the duration of the inconvenience."

I shrugged. "It is worthy -- "

"It is not mine! My God, 'present urgent crisis'! 'Goods and belongings'! The prose is atrocious, the tone fawns, and there is no subscription to the flood relief fund. _Le Figaro_ should be ashamed to have published such a thing without consulting me!"

I repressed a smile. "Surely it is a harmless enough prank -- you get credit for forbearance at a time of national solidarity, and no harm is done. It is entirely in your spirit."

"My spirit, perhaps, but not my style. I had a pretty scheme in mind, elegant, appropriate -- but should I execute it now I should be taken for a liar. It's beyond impudent! I must chastise _Le Figaro_ for their lack of intelligence."

His quicksilver mood changed again; Lupin gave me his most charming smile and said, "But I am a poor host. What do you think of potage Crécy to start? I regret the absence of fish, but the exigencies of the day..."

No more was said about the advertisement until we were sipping our cognac after what, to do Paul justice, was a very fine supper.

I asked idly, "So, how have you yourself fared? My cellar is submerged, the lift has stopped, but climbing a few stairs seems little to endure when I think of the suffering of others."

"Not everyone shares your opinion. In fact ..."

Lupin stared over the rim of his glass, at some mirage I could not guess.

"In fact ...?"

" _Le Figaro_ has a statement from the millionaire Leloup. He extols his own cleverness in building on high ground, and projects that the Seine will sweep out the rubbish from Paris, making room for respectable people. He is already making plans for demolition in Javel."

"Such boors -- "

"This goes beyond simple boorishness, my dear fellow. Any rich man may indulge schemes for enriching himself at the expense of the needy, but it takes a particularly advanced level of cruelty to choose the middle of a catastrophe to add mental sufferings to physical. "

I had rarely seen Lupin so passionate. Before I could quite catch his mood, he turned the subject.

"But I grow tedious. Another cognac?"

"No, thank you. I must return to my household and make sure that my books are still safe."

"Very well. " He made no visible sign or gesture, but within moments the proprietor was at his elbow. "Monsieur d'Avenac?"

"Tell Luc to bring the boat round at once."

"Very good, Monsieur."

* * *

And that was the last I saw of Lupin until the waters had receded and Paris had recovered itself. He asked me to join him again at Chez Paul. This time, the invitation was delivered in the conventional fashion. I was grateful for a distraction from the task of setting my own household in order, and replied that I should certainly come.

I found Lupin in an excellent mood, overflowing with mischief and secure in his amour-propre. 

"I suppose that now the flood is over, your activities are no longer restricted."

"Ah, my boy, my activities were never restricted; they were simply rechanneled, like the waters of the Seine. An infelicitous analogy, but there it is. If you will recall, M. Leloup turned over his house to the poor during the relief effort."

"I wondered what had provoked his change of heart."

"Ah. I was forced to assist him in commencing his career of benevolence. Let us hope the change will be a permanent one. But before I begin, we should make ourselves comfortable. Another cognac? Very well, then I shall begin."

"So, you must understand that such a man as Leloup must be corrected. I have a variety of means of encouraging reparation for one's sins through forfeiture of possessions. However, those means -- thanks to a meddler -- were out of the question for the next little while. The longer my retribution was delayed, the less salutary the punishment. As you shall see, my invention was nonetheless equal to the problem.

"Jacques Leloup lived alone, save a battalion of servants. You know my methods; it was trivial for my men to extract him thence and set him up in a cozy little garret in the Rue Felicien-David. The roof only leaked in one place, ample ventilation was provided by a cracked window-pane, and wholesome meals of bread and soup were delivered twice a day. In short, nothing could be more suitable to the case.

"I left Leloup for almost no time at all -- two days, perhaps three. When I was confident that he was sufficiently aware of the effects of privation, I determined to figure as an angel of liberation. I had my men take me by boat to Leloup's new abode. I knew I should have to prevent him from embracing me in his first upwelling of thanks; therefore I sent my men up the ladder first, to secure him. After all was in readiness, I climbed the ladder and stepped through the open window. "

He spun out the story, a second Scheherazade. As he spoke, the brasserie faded from around me, and I saw and heard events as if I had been there myself.

* * *

When Lupin climbed through the window, Leloup was tied with blue cords to a chair. His right arm was left free, but otherwise he was thoroughly restrained. The barrel upon which his meals had been served was conveniently placed to support his elbow. He greeted Lupin with a flood of abuse, which Lupin ignored with his usual good humor.

"Tut, Monsieur Leloup. I have come to deliver you from this accommodation and restore you to the comforts which you believe yourself to merit. If you wish me to retire --"

"No, no, let me go! Immediately!"

"But of course. There will, of course, be rent for your board and lodging. I am not an unreasonable man; shall we say 20,000 francs and two favors?"

His response was, alas, quite unprintable.

"In that case, I regret that you must remain here until you find yourself able to pay the bill."

Lupin pulled three folded papers from his inside pocket.

"The choice is yours, Monsieur. It's very simple, and will redound entirely to your credit. You have but to sign these three documents and you will be transported, in all comfort, to Spa where you may restore your liver and spleen. No, no, do not protest, I am certain it will do you good. You will simply write --"

"If you expect me to apologize --"

"No, no, of course not. I am quite aware that this is beyond your capacity. Perish the thought. No, I expect you to make amends. Think of it. Three simple signatures, and you are the hero of the hour! You leave this wretched garret, this home of the poor, and resume your proper position as a wealthy man surrounded by comfort."

"But --"

"If you prefer, you may remain here for the duration of the flood. I assure you, the bread and beans will continue to arrive regularly. You have a roof over your head, you have an overabundance of blankets -- you need neither starve, drown, nor freeze, unlike many of Paris's more deserving citizens."

"If you think I shall continue --"

"I think that you will do exactly what I choose that you should do. I am confident that you will see the wisdom of cooperating."

Leloup scowled. "You want my Donatello medallion, no doubt."

"But no! It was forged by Bastianini in 1850, and furthermore is so badly composed that it is not even a good Bastianini. I should not dream of owning such a thing."

"It is no such thing! Druout assured me --"

"Druout's evaluators were mistaken. It happens, alas, even to the connoisseur. In any case, I have pledged to refrain from theft during the current unpleasantness, and my word is good. Your belongings are safe ... from me. Three documents, Monsieur. Three signatures, and you may go." And Lupin spread the documents out on the rough table.

Leloup reached out his hand reluctantly, then drew it back.

"I cannot possibly read this without my pince-nez."

"I quite understand." And Lupin, with a flourish, drew them from his pocket and fixed them solicitously on Leloup's nose.

His last barricade fallen, Leloup subsided and read the first document. "What? I shall never!"

Lupin turned to the window. "Of course, Monsieur. I quite understand. If you will pardon me, I have urgent business --"

"You cannot be serious! You intend to allow the scum of Paris into my house!"

"No, Monsieur. I am confident that the scum of Paris is absent from your house ... at present. I am offering you the opportunity to become a benefactor of the public; perhaps even a hero. Lending your house to the Daughters of Charity indicates your public spirit and your commitment to the welfare of the city. I should not be surprised if you received the Légion d'honneur."

The millionaire said sulkily, "I have nothing to write with."

"Ah, my carelessness! Take this, monsieur, I beg you."

The millionaire accepted the chased-gold pen, examined it, and stiffened. "That's mine!"

"Absolutely. Could I ask a man to sign using somebody else's pen? No, no, quite impossible."

The millionaire signed. Lupin took the document, scanned it, folded it, and placed it in his inside pocket. "Very well. Now the second."

"No! I refuse! My wine cellar is the product of years --"

"Think of it, devoting those years to warming the wretched and comforting the afflicted. Think of the Wedding at Cana, where the good wine followed the poor. Think of anything you like, but sign."

His knuckles showing white around the pen, the millionaire signed.

"Just once more, and we are quit of one another. Here, if you please. A bagatelle. A subscription to the Daughters of Charity."

"20,000 francs!"

"A trifle to one of your wealth. There is no doubt that the Daughters will use it wisely."

"Never!"

"I should not dream of overriding your domestic preferences. Farewell, Monsieur! I am confident that --"

"Come back, come back. I shall sign."

Lupin laid Leloup's own check register before him; the amount and date were already filled in. Leloup scrawled his signature one last time. Lupin blotted it, then the other papers. He stood again.

"Rest assured, Monsieur, should you think to stop payment, all the papers will hear of it, and adieu! to your Légion d'honneur."

"You insult me."

"Quite impossible, my dear Monsieur, quite impossible. But I have, as I have said, business to attend. I must bid you farewell. No, no, do not trouble yourself to rise. My agents will arrive very shortly; you will begin your journey by boat, then continue by automobile to Spa, where I trust you will refresh yourself and contemplate your soul. No, no, do not thank me! I must be off!"

And before the outraged Leloup could reply, Lupin had reached the window and vanished from sight.

* * *

I applauded Lupin's ingenuity. In general I could not condone Lupin's profession, but in this particular case I felt that he were entirely justified. We ordered another bottle of wine and proceeded to talk of commonplaces. There was yet one question unresolved. As we settled back with our cognacs, the atmosphere seemed ripe for confidences, or at least such confidences as Lupin was ever willing to unfold.

"But you failed to discover the author of the false announcement?"

Lupin's mobile features became mischievous. "And why would you believe that, my friend?"

"There has been no further notice, no exposure, no retribution."

"Oh, you mistake me. In this particular case, no retribution is required. Indeed, the ledger stands quite heavily in my favor already."

"How so?"

"I have found the perpetrator. A casual inquiry at _Le Figaro_ , for which I have for many years been a valued correspondent, produced a vivid description of the man who had placed the advertisement."

"And?"

"It was the esteemed Inspector Ganimard."

"What?"

"Hoping to forestall my activities during the national emergency. Although I deplore his lack of faith in my morals, I must admit I have given him cause."

He lifted his glass toward the headquarters of the Sûreté. "To Ganimard!"

"To Ganimard!" 

**Author's Note:**

> Although it is a matter of record that M. Lupin was the head of the Sûreté during the immediate pre-War period, I have taken the liberty of assuming that M. Dudouis oversaw all criminal issues during the Great Flood of 1910. Even the indefatigable Lupin would have been strained to the limit managing flood relief, making it impossible for him to have this little adventure.
> 
> The pneumatic clock system did not extend to Neuilly in 1910, but I couldn't bear to throw the reference away.
> 
> Thank you to Violet Augustine for her usual crisp beta, and to Sevenofspade and Shezan for patient Paris-picking.


End file.
